As the film opens, it’s clear that we’re looking at a stage in a theatre – a stage that’s frequently revisited throughout the production, each time featuring different sets. The characters glide around the stage as sets are changed around them and from time to time, the action even unfolds in the stalls, with the seats removed.

Only occasionally does the narrative venture outside into Russia’s desolate snow-covered wilderness.

With the staging of the film being so theatrical, it’s not surprising that many of the performances feel less cinematic than they might have done in other circumstances.

Tom Stoppard’s script does a remarkable job of squeezing Tolstoy’s tome into a little over two hours – and whatever might be missing, what’s left makes sense.

But while visually engaging, the film’s spectacular but unorthodox delivery makes it more of a challenge for the audience to be truly engaged emotionally. In this sense, it feels as cold as the Russian snow.

The film is highly likely to feature among the awards nominations in the new year, but the best work is from the production designers, costumiers, Wright and Stoppard – but the performances, while adequate, are less worthy of attention; there’s little chemistry between Knightley and the newly double-barrelled Taylor-Johnson and apart from a flamboyantly comic turn from Matthew Macfadyen, the other actors don’t have enough to do to shine.